


School Nurse Protocol

by Princessfbi



Series: You're Just Making Them Up Now [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted robbery, Big Brother-Little Brother Relationship, Fluff, Guilt, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Illnesses, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter was an idiot and now has to deal with the consequences, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Happy Hogan, Protective Tony Stark, Responsibility, Shameless Downton Abbey references, Stressed Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-31 21:16:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12141309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princessfbi/pseuds/Princessfbi
Summary: Happy raced into Peter’s room with a slide of his shoes on the slick floor as another explosion rocked the facility.Jesus, the kid was still asleep!





	School Nurse Protocol

Despite what the kid may have everyone --- himself--- believe, having a fast metabolism did not mean he was immune to diseases.

You wanna talk about that time you threw up in the car, kid? No? Okay then!

In fact, the kid’s body reacted almost in the exact opposite. Sure, he wasn’t going to pick up the passing cold everyone else had at school and he was probably never going to get something like shingles when he finally met middle age which to Happy seemed like _never_ but the kid was definitely not immune. In fact, it took him getting a case of the flu for them to realize that his body’s natural response and his spider DNA were at war when it came to illness. Peter’s body immediate retaliation to something like the flu was to fever the bacteria or virus out. Perfectly normal. But then his spider DNA would turn up to eleven and try to attack not only his fever but whatever was causing it. In short, Peter’s healing abilities were thrown into overdrive and fighting itself.

So, sure, he could walk away from something like the flu after three days but they were hard three days. After one frightened call from a May Parker and two endless nights were Peter’s body was overworking itself; they figured it was just best that from now on, whenever Peter was sick he was better off spending the duration of it in the care of Medical were there was a countless number of Stark medical resources at his disposal.

For once, Peter didn’t argue about something. His body burned off any sort of medication that could give some relief to his symptoms so fast that Tony and a newly returned Bruce had worked tirelessly for weeks on a series of painkillers, antibiotics, and sedatives that would work on Peter whenever the situation arose. It worked wonders on his sickness but it usually left the kid weaker than ever and exhausted with relief as it served as sort of a middle man between the combating opponents in his body.

“I am not some school nurse, Tony,” Happy insisted, trying to keep his voice down because the kid was fast asleep last time he checked. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Happy, c’mon.” Tony replied with ease that Happy knew was fake. “I hate leaving the kid alone but I need to go back to the compound and make sure Cap and his rogues haven’t burned it to the ground yet.”

Happy was pretty sure Pepper had told Tony to stop calling Steve and co ‘Cap and his rogues’ now that they were pardoned but Happy wasn’t about to correct him. He still hadn’t forgiven Captain Rogers for what he'd done to Tony in Siberia... whatever that had been. Tony never wanted to talk about it.

“I have no idea what to do with a sick child, Tony!”

“It’s easy. He’ll sleep for most, if not _all_ of the time anyway.”

“I don’t have a medical degree.”

“So, you lied on your resume? Interesting---“

“I am not a doctor.”

“Duly noted.”

“What am I suppose to do if he wakes up?”

“Jesus, Hap, he has pneumonia not tuberculous. The kid’s already worn out to the point of newborn puppy exhaustion. He’ll probably only be able to handle water!” Tony sighed, pressing a finger along the bridge of his nose. “Everything will be fine. I promise. I’ll be gone three hours tops. You have an entire bio medical engineering team three floors below you. May will be back later tonight! FRIDAY has Bruce on speed dial. You'll be fine.”

Happy wanted to argue. He wanted to argue so bad because _no,_ being the kid’s bodyguard was bad enough. Being his nurse maid was too far! Happy was not equipped to handle a situation like this.

But Tony’s flippant façade was barely holding on with scotch tape. He knew Tony would’ve much rather stayed with Peter and hide from the rest of the Avengers but Captain Rogers’s pardon was unstable at best. And Tony? He was being pulled in a million directions lately and try as he might, Tony was not in fact, made of taffy and actually couldn’t be in four places at once. Three? Yes. Four? It was a stretch. Tony was stretched. His headaches were coming in full force. The dark circles under his eyes were only more prevalent with each cup of coffee that was passing his lips. And Happy could watch the kid for three hours. If he woke up he could just set him up with a movie or something.

“I liked working for Pepper better.” Happy grumbled, already moving towards the couch in the living room and loosening his tie.

“Three hours! If I’m not back in three send Lassie after me!”

Happy continued his grumblings and waved Tony off, pointedly ignoring the sound of his suit launching towards the compound.

And Tony wasn’t wrong. Peter didn’t wake up. The dumbass had gone and gotten himself thrown into the Hudson in the middle of February and proceeded to continue four more hours of patrol with only the suit’s heater to keep him dry.

“It’s a heater, Peter!” Tony had shouted. “A heater to keep you _heated_ until you get somewhere _dry_. Not run around in a skin-tight suit soaking wet.”

Peter had winced into his cough at the scolding and tried to uphold his bravado even though his body was fighting off an intense case of pneumonia that would’ve crippled any other human being on the planet. The antibiotics Bruce and Tony had pumped into his system was enough to ease the war raging in his chest and he had pretty much slept through most of the past day and half so, for all intended purposes… it was actually probably the easiest gig in regards to the kid. No bad guys. No dramatic experiments. No ramblings. No traffic. Just Happy and Peter at a rather secluded office building in the living quarters where Peter was asleep and Happy had access to all the episodes of Downton Abbey.

Tony had hundreds of buildings. Literally, hundreds. And Happy had been to all of them. It had been one of the few smart things Tony had done before the whole kidnapping in Afghanistan incident. Though, Happy was almost positive it was an arrogant show of ownership. Tony had gotten into the habit of creating living spaces in all his buildings, be it an engineering lab or a series of offices. It gave him options to crash wherever he or anyone--- Pepper, Happy, and now Peter--- whenever they needed to stay. It had been great whenever Tony had been trying to avoid paparazzi. In fact, the living space in the building they were in now was really only used exclusively whenever Peter needed it at this point.

It was a small building for the prototypes of the prototypes. It was by no means one of Tony’s pivotal or even crucial facilities. It’d been one of the first buildings inhabited for research alone of medical advances way back when. An archive basically. But it was a nice half way point between the city and upstate and everything Peter could ever need to monitor his condition and make him as comfortable as possible was just a few floors down.

So really, Happy had no idea why anyone would set an off an explosion beside the building.

Happy raced into Peter’s room with a slide of his shoes on the slick floor as another explosion rocked the facility.

Jesus, the kid was still asleep! Evacuation alarms blared throughout the building and FRIDAY was giving instructions for the occupants downstairs. But then suddenly all power was shut off with a low hiss sending silence throughout the building.

Shit.

Happy had no idea what was going on but whatever had happened had cut off FRIDAY and that was never good.

“Kid?” Happy called, spotting tufts of brown hair peeking out from under the comforter. “Kid, wake up.”

He tried to keep his shaking to a gentle back and forth but Peter was taking longer than average to wake up and they just didn’t have the time. Blurry brown eyes blinked up at Happy and then winced.

“Happy?” Peter croaked, grimacing at the sound of his throat. Suddenly, the kid curled over and lost himself in the midst of a very congested coughing fit and all Happy could do was pull the blanket back with ease while trying to smooth out the chest rattling hacking that was coming from the kid. Peter shuddered as the warmth of the comforter was peeled away and pulled his knees to his chest.

“’m no… Cold,” Peter tried to say but the will to sleep slurred his words together.

“We’ve got to go, kid.” Happy would’ve loved to have let Peter keep sleeping. He could feel the raging fever on the kid’s skin as he worked the IV out of Peter’s hand. He could’ve taken it with them but if Peter needed to run, Happy didn’t want one more thing to catch him. Not that he thought Peter was going to be running anywhere anytime soon. No, Happy would’ve loved to let Peter stay in bed and activate lockdown in his bedroom but whoever had attacked the building had been able to put two and two together and blew up FRIDAY’s mainframe. And Happy knew the protocol. Everyone did.

If one of the buildings gets hit, take the kid far, far away and don’t look back.

“What’s going on?” Peter mumbled, falling limply around at the guidance of Happy’s arm until he was sitting up.

In the distance, Happy could hear gunfire and even out of it, Peter must have heard it too because with an exhale of air that he didn’t have to spare, he reached over and grabbed his StarkWatch. He fumbled for a minute with the strap before giving up and curling his fingers around it instead and dropped his head to rest against Happy’s shoulder. Happy snagged one of Peter’s blankets, a grey sweatshirt material one that wouldn’t weigh them down but would offer Peter some warmth, and draped it over the kid’s shoulders.

Happy wrapped an arm around Peter’s waist and hefted him into a standing position before they started their long agonizing way towards evacuating. Peter, the poor kid, was trying his best to put one foot in front of the other, but the cold from being out of bed was already getting to him and they hadn’t even made it to the kitchen. He was shaking so hard, his jaw was chattering and his eyelids were fighting a losing battle of trying to stay awake. The kid’s IV must have had something in it to help him sleep. He would’ve carried him but Happy wouldn’t do anyone any favors if he blew his back out during his rescue.

Peter coughed into his fist, trying hard to stay quiet but forced to give in to the demands of his lungs and bent over to let out a series of long painful barks. Happy secured another hand over Peter’s chest to try and keep him up right but it wasn’t doing much to ease the discomfort.

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled thickly, wilting further into Happy’s side. “I’m sorry.”

“I know, kid, c’mon. We’re going to get you out of here.” And as they made their way to the fire exit, Happy stumbled into a startling realization.

Shit.

With the power out and FRIDAY nonresponsive, that meant having to take the stairs. They were on the sixth floor and that meant six flights of steps and there was no way Peter was going to be able to make it that far. If they had to stop and rest, they’d be sitting ducks and he wasn’t willing to bet that that had been the last of the gunfire they’d heard.

Another explosion nearly sent them stumbling off their feet.

Ok. New plan.

“C’mon.” Happy encouraged, turning towards the kitchen area. He maneuvered his way around the island and eased Peter to the floor, tucking him in to the little alcove under the granite counter top.

“All right, listen, kid,” Happy said, feeling the sweat roll off the side of his face despite the February winter air seeping through the previously heated room. Peter looked like he was trying really hard to focus on what Happy was saying but the illusion was all but shattered as he continued to shiver into attention.

“I know it’s going to be hard but I need you to try and stay quiet.”

Peter flinched as if he was choking back another coughing fit and nodded.

“I’m going to try and manually reconnect FRIDAY. It’ll give us enough power to take the elevator down and it’ll reactive the emergency protocols for everyone else.”

Peter nodded and tried to stand. “I’ll go---“

But Happy was already pushing him back into his hidden corner. “You won’t make it, kid. For once, I’m actually going to be a lot faster than you. So, I need you to stay here and be quiet. I will come right back for you. Ok?”

Peter blinked owlishly at him, taking a lot longer to process what Happy was saying to him, and Happy tapped him on the cheek until he could focus again.

“I’ll be back. I promise.”

Peter nodded, closing his eyes and curling tighter into his blanket. It should’ve been concerning that the kid wasn’t running on the adrenaline high of a possible fight but Happy couldn’t blame him. He was surprised he hadn’t thrown up a lung yet. With a sigh and a crack of his knees, Happy was racing back towards the stairs and was on his way.

* * *

Peter wasn’t entirely sure if he had fallen asleep or not. Maybe he had drifted into a deep trance of listening to the pulsing rocketing through his head but who knows. It didn't really feel like sleep but he couldn't exactly remember when he'd closed his eyes.

He should get up and go help Happy. He should pull himself together and help the people downstairs. There had been gunfire. They’d both heard it. And Happy was worried about Peter slowing him down.

But the problem was a lot of things actually. One, Peter wasn’t sure how far he would be able to make it on his own. His legs were trembling still from his trip out of the bedroom and just from keeping them lifted to his chest during his hiding which led to two. Two, because the sheer exhaustion meant that his strength was all but nonexistent and his limbs were as weak and heavy as ever. He’d just get in the way and at least now that he was sitting he could fall back asleep. He shouldn’t. There was a very real, very dangerous situation that was going on but Peter was having a little trouble with all the specifics and his eye lids were a lot stronger than Peter remembered them being and he guessed he must have nodded off.

At least he'd made the point to press his panic button on his StarkWatch before he fell asleep because FRIDAY was down and who knew if word had gotten to Tony yet and there were people that needed help downstairs and suddenly a hand grabbed a fistful of Peter’s t-shirt and yanked him out of his hiding spot. His hands circled around the wrist holding him but his head snapped back at the sudden motion sending a wave of pain to cascade down from the top of his skull into his neck and flaring up a dull headache into a full-on migraine. He lurched with the pull and scrambled to get his feet under him as someone else whipped his blanket off of him with a snap. The chill immediately set upon Peter’s frame and he shivered, torn between wanting to curl his arms around himself for warmth and wanting to fight back against whoever was dragging him out of the kitchen.

His hand met the hard scruff of someone’s face before it was slapped away and he was tossed into a bruising grip.

“Oh, the kiddo is strong.” It had enough mocking laced within its tone for Peter to distinguish that whoever had him wasn’t a friend. He shoved a hand against a massive chest and tried to pull himself free because these were the people who had attacked the building and Happy was out there somewhere and he needed to help but his muscles _ached_ in a way they hadn’t in a long time and he was so sore that his strength gave out. The voice laughed and clamped a hand around the back of his neck, shaking him as Peter squirmed.

Peter gasped as his foot slid out and suddenly he was dropping to the floor. In any other given instance, he would’ve been back on his feet with a flourish of a flip but instead his chest made impact with the cold icy floor and a harsh gut rattling cough ripped through his throat. The meds in his system were wearing off and his body was in a flux of confusion with itself. A sound of disgust ricocheted down to Peter as he retched out another cough that made his ribs feel like they were about to collapse on themselves.

Someone grabbed him and wrapped an arm around his chest to pull back to his feet but he coughed again and again before he was choking out another and gasping because it felt like an eternity before he could take in any air.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’re not going to die on us, are you?”

Peter could barely lift his head enough to look up from the floor, painful gasps making his throat seize and lack of oxygen making his head spin so he didn’t really feel super inclined to pay whoever was speaking any attention. But a hand latched on to the underside of his jaw and squeezed so hard it was getting difficult to breathe. He didn’t even realize they were lifting his face up because he clawed at the hand holding his jaw in a desperate attempt to be able to breathe again but someone came around snatched onto his wrists and pulled them away. Fingers snapped in front of his face and shook his head a little until he focused on the person in front of him.

He was an older man, someone that Peter recognized but barely. His portly face looked out of place surrounded by hard severe military trained expressions of the men around him. His skin was sun damaged and stretched like the abused skin had been Botox'd and stretched too many times.

“Where’s Stark keeping the goods, bud?” The man asked from behind two over sized lips. "C'mon. Earth to peewee. Answer the question."

What? Peter was trying really hard to understand what it was they were talking about but his chest felt like it was on fire and his face was really starting to hurt.

“Get your hands off the kid, Stern.”

“Happy!” The man--- Stern droned like a business man caught stealing a client, letting Peter go and turning towards Happy. Peter sagged in the arms of whoever was holding him, painful wheezes escaping his lips as he gasped for air.

Happy would’ve raced over to the kid and helped lift him up because there was no way his breathing was getting any better slumped over some asshole’s arm like that but the gun at his head kept him from pulling out of his own guard’s hands. Happy was forced the rest of the way until he was pushed onto his knees, hands on his head, and made to glare up at Stern.

“Nice to see you again,” Stern drawled, his smug face making Happy strain against every ounce of control. “I didn’t realize Stark opened a daycare here.”

“Let the kid go,” Happy bit out from between his clenched teeth. He swung his glare over to the guard holding Peter up, all too aware of the machine gun pointed at Peter from the second guard beside him.

“You have to lift him up.” Happy ordered to the guard holding Peter. “He can’t breathe like that. Lift him up!”

The guard sneered and wrapped an arm around Peter’s throat, forcing the kid to straighten up against his chest. The wheezing was still there but it sounded less painful and clearer.

“What’s wrong with the little runt?” Stern asked, his voice patronizing and mocking Peter’s discomfort.

Happy forced himself to tear his eyes away from Peter and the way he was trembling with his feet barely touching the ground. He tried to remain calm and in control but it was extremely difficult because they were seriously screwed in a way he hadn’t felt since that time he realized that A.I.M. guy was going to blow up. Happy was at a loss of what to do because for once, Happy had made the wrong call. He should’ve just figured out a way to carry the kid or barricaded him up in his room and he hadn’t realized that until he’d ran into three armed guards and had a gun pressed to his head. He hadn’t made it down in time to reset FRIDAY and Stern and his men had taken full control of the building. And on top of everything, they'd found Peter.

He should’ve just carried him.

They were screwed in all the ways and then some.

“Who the hell let you out of prison?” Happy asked instead all the other millions of questions rattling in his head. Stern, the smug bastard, just chortled.

“Hydra may be barely half of what it used to be thanks to Captain Rogers and his red hair girlfriend but a snake can still bite even after you cut off its head,” Stern said. “I owe some people a few favors hence the wardrobe change…”

Stern gave a contemptuous lift of his arms, flicking a hand at his ill-fitted tactile gear. He looked like an idiot.

“So, what do you want then? Tony isn’t here---“

“Oh, I don’t want Tony,” Stern interrupted. “No, Jesus Christ, no. I can’t wait till that arrogant son of a bitch gets it in the end but I’m not about to take him on by myself.”

Peter hissed out a shiver and trembled violently, his face pinched with the concentration of trying not to lose himself into another coughing fit. Even Happy was starting to feel the cold air seeping into the room. Peter was only in a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. He must be freezing.

“Then why are you here?” Happy asked, steeling his gaze back to Stern.

“Well, Stark has something Hydra wants pretty badly.”

“Yeah, I figured that out jerkoff. What is it?” Happy expected the hit but it still hurt. The butt of the gun didn’t break skin but he could feel the swelling of a knot on the back of his head.

“Happy!” Peter cried, his voice hoarse and cracking on the last syllable. Stern and his men were laughing at the kid again and if the room would stop spinning Happy would gladly punch every single one of them.

“I’m fine, Pete,” Happy said, sneaking a glance up at Peter. The kid must have tried to reach for him because one of his arms was pinned at his side underneath his guard’s bicep and his other was fighting the hand at his wrist. Even without his full abilities he was still giving the guard enough trouble that he was starting to look irritated and Peter wasn’t going to be able to take another hit and still keep both his lungs in his body so Happy forced himself back onto his knees.

Stern? Stern was smirking back and forth between the two of them.

“Seriously, Happy, who is this kid?” He asked. “He’s adorable.”

“What does Hydra want from Tony? There’s nothing here.” Unless Stern wanted to steal a new state of the art pacemaker there wasn’t really anything worth exploding the building over. Stern rolled his eyes and sighed.

“You’re going to make me spell it out. Ok. Where’s Asset Lacework?”

And Happy forced himself to remain as neutral as physically possible. He blinked and kept his lips from flattening into a hard line. Blank. No outward reaction.

“C’mon, Happy. We know it’s here. Asset Lacework. Security level Alpha. Logged in yesterday afternoon and hasn’t moved facilities since.” Stern drawled, tucking his hands into his pockets and making himself look even more ridiculous in his tactile gear. Happy felt his heart squeeze into his chest that it almost suffocated him but he still remained purposefully blank.

“I have no idea what you’re talking," he said flatly.

Happy pushed down every impulse to even so much as glimpse at Peter and hopped Peter would just keep silent like he had been. No indication. No recognition. No attention.

“Asset Lacework,” Stern said louder. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know what that is!” And this time Happy wasn’t expecting the boot to his gut and doubled over.

“Lacework,” Stern said, turning to Peter and grabbing onto his face again. “Ringing any bells, kid? Huh?”

Peter shook his head and Stern scowled and actually  _shook_ the kid by his jaw.

“Nothing?”

Peter wheezed “I don’t---“ before losing himself into a sharp hacking cough that must have irritated the entire length of the inside of his throat. Stern shoved Peter back with disgust and jerked his hand from whatever germs Peter had gotten on him. He stepped aside and flicked a hand at the guard beside Peter and Peter flinched and---

“He doesn’t know!” Happy shouted when it looked like they were about to bring the butt of the machine gun against Peter’s head. “He doesn’t know anything about it.”

And why would he? Peter _was_ Asset Lacework. He _had_ Alpha level security clearance. It was code for Tony to keep a log of wherever Peter was without outright spelling out that Peter Parker and Spider-man were one in the same. Lacework. It’d been a play on the webs.

Lacework _was_ Peter.

That didn’t mean he knew about it. And Happy certainly wasn’t going to let him figure it out. Because if Peter knew he was what--- who--- they were looking for then he would fess up in a heartbeat out of some misplaced bravery to save Happy and Hydra would have to go over Happy’s dead body to take Peter with them.

“So, you do know. What is it Happy?” Stern asked, slipping back into that smug bastard persona and talking to Happy like he was strong arming him into a business deal on the Senate floor.

Happy checked on Peter when the kid had gone silent for too long, hoping he hadn’t pieced it together. Peter’s guard had his neck exposed as he held a knife to his throat, cold and unfeeling, and waiting for his cue to cut Peter open.

“Let the kid go and I’ll tell you.” Happy bargained.

“Tell me what it is and I’ll leave the kid alive.” Stern countered.

Happy pretended like it was eating away at his very conscious to speak instead of having every intention to flat out lie. “It’s a synthetic skin cell regeneration prototype that Tony’s been working on.”

Stern said nothing and watched Happy carefully.

“It’s hidden in the basement level,” Happy added with a sigh. “Let the kid go and I’ll take you there.”

Again no one said anything and the only sound in the room was the hammering of Happy’s own heartbeat in his ears and the rasp of Peter’s breathing as his guard held his head back.

Then, Stern turned to Peter’s guard and nodded. “You two. Take the runt into the middle of the woods and tie him to a tree.”

“No!” Happy shouted and stormed onto his feet only for the butt of the gun to hit him on the head again. This time he could feel skin break upon contact but he didn’t care and surged forward before three guards pinned him back. The two other guards were dragging Peter further and further away, trying to lift him between them.  

“No! Stern, you son of a bitch!” Happy struggled. Stern’s full smirk was dripping with self-satisfaction as he waved towards Peter and the guards.

“You said you would leave him alive!” Happy yelled.

“I am,” Stern nodded. “They’re going to leaved him leashed in the woods _alive.”_

“He’s sick!” Happy strained, watching as Peter dropped to the floor in attempts to dead weight his way out of the guards’ grips. “He’ll freeze to death.”

The weather outside was frigid cold and snow still covered the ground. New York had had the worst snowstorm in years! Peter wouldn’t last an hour out there in nothing but sweats and a t-shirt. The kid wasn’t wearing any fucking socks! He’d die!

“Well, then he better hope that Tony Stark finds him in time.” Stern boasted. “Boys? Truss him up like a lawn ornament. I want Stark to _hurt_ when he finally finds him.”

One of the guards nodded and dragged Peter up by his hair, twisting the curls brutally.

Peter grabbed his wrist and contorted it with ease into a very painful sprain that had the man screaming.

“What the fu---“ But Happy didn’t wait and elbowed the closet guard in the face. He ducked under a fist and slammed his hand up onto the military grade riffle and jammed it. He yanked the riffle from the guard’s surprised hands and swung until it made impact with one or two heads.

Happy glanced over at Peter as he dodged another punch. The kid's guards had gotten a hold of him again from behind and were forcing him to his knees. Peter twisted and flipped one guard over his back, sending the man skidding across the floor. Happy braced his hands and then psyched his opponent out by rugby tackling him to the ground. One solid punch had the man unconscious and bleeding from his face. He spun around on his feet and froze at the startling deep intrigue etched into Stern’s face as he watched Peter struggle, steps away from him. One of the guards kicked Peter in the stomach and one long whine of a gasp released all the air that had been in Peter’s body until he could only choke out a gagging sound that turned into pitiful cough near the end.

“Change of plans,” Stern said still appraising, never taking his eyes off Peter as the kid’s body gave out on him. “Bring the runt with us. Kill Happy”

An arrow crashed through the window and landed in the throat of the guard that was pulling out his gun to pistol whip Peter.

Happy slid across the room and landed beside Peter, his joints protesting at the jolting impact with the floor, just as the rest of the windows exploded with the sound of gunfire and repulsors. Happy slung an arm around Peter and dragged him behind the counter and covered the kid as Iron Man sailed into the room. He tucked Peter’s head against his chest and braced an arm against the counter and prayed--- literally and figuratively--- that nothing would ricochet into the kid. Peter’s wheezing was turning to a pitiful version of hyperventilating and he could only block the kid from any sort of rebound or attack with his body.

“Stark, you arrogant fu---“ Stern’s comment was cut off at the sound of a metal fist smacking into skin and then all was silent. Happy stayed perfectly still, waiting to see if there was any further threat and then---

Peter’s hand made a weak grab for his shirt, his fingers twisting around the fabric and tugging frantically. A series of strangled huffs rushed out of Peter and Happy uncurled himself to check the kid out.

His brown eyes were wide with panic and alarm, hysterical rasps escaping through his blue lips, too fast for him to actually take in any air.

“Happy?” Tony called, his voice tight and worried.

“Tony!” Happy yelled, curling his hands around Peter’s head and at a completely loss of what to do. “Tony! He can’t breathe! He can’t breathe!”

“Bruce, we need you now!” A very distant part of his brain recognized Natasha’s voice but he couldn’t even give a damn because there wasn’t anything he could do and Peter was getting paler and paler and his lips were _fucking blue_ and he was shaking so much from the cold---

“Now Bruce!” Tony was shouting as he stumbled out of his suit.

Clint Barton was suddenly beside Happy and slipping his arms under the kid and standing with so much ease Happy wanted to hate him for it but he couldn’t at the moment.

“We need to get him back into bed. His skin is like ice.” Clint reasoned before Happy’s thoughts could spiral and was stepping over the rubble and destruction to Peter’s room.

“Tony, get the heat back on! We need FRIDAY back online.” Bruce ordered as he ran from the stairs to Peter’s room. 

And Happy couldn’t get the blue lips out of his mind.

* * *

“Why are they living in a museum?”

Happy startled at the distinctly young and distinctly not upper middle-class English accent from behind him. Peter was shuffling over to the couch, his socked feet scrapping against the carpet and blanket wrapped around his shoulders dragging behind him. The kid’s brown eyes blinked sheepishly as the show played on the massive TV, his face frowning in concentration.

“They aren’t. It’s their house. It's a period drama.” Happy replied, waving his hand as Cora stumbled through a history of one of the paintings for the attentive crowd.

“But then why are they giving tours?” Peter asked from behind a fist, a broken cough muffled into his blanket.

Happy sighed and paused the episode.

“It’s--- They--- What are you doing out of bed? Where’s Tony?”

Peter shrugged and curled the blanket further around himself. “He fell asleep. I got bored.”

“You should be in bed, kid,” Happy said, still painfully aware of how pale and blue Peter’s skin had been a couple of days before. How he’d almost killed the kid. How he’d royally screwed up.

“I’ve been in bed for days. It’s so boring.” Peter all but whined with a stomp. “Can’t I watch TV with you?”

No. No, Peter should be in bed. Dr. Banner had been very insistent about that. Everyone was under strict orders not to add any more stress to Peter’s delicate immune system for at least another week. Peter needed to march back into bed and stay there.

“Fine.” Happy said instead, sullenly and missing the beaming smile that lit up Peter’s face.

“Awesome.” Peter jumped and shuffled to the couch, sitting close enough to Happy for it to be awkward in any other circumstance because of course the kid was a middle seat on the couch person who had no idea of personal space. He sniffed and uncurled his hand from around a ratty tissue before quietly blowing his nose.

“But I’m not answering all your questions for you. You can’t just start in the middle of Downton. We’ll start from the beginning.” Happy grumbled and pretended that he wasn’t excited to be starting the series all over again.  

“Sweet,” Peter said with another sniff and settled in further on the couch.

They made it all the way through the first episode with Peter asking a few questions here and there--- “Holy shit, it’s Professor McGonagall!” --- and a rare mucus spitting cough that ended up with Happy just getting a kid a trashcan and a tissue box and they were well on their way into the second episode where Cora had just scolded O’Brien for disrespecting Matthew before Happy couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look, kid, I’m sorry.”

Peter hummed and watched as Matthew stumbled into insulting Moseley before he cleared his throat. “What for?”

“I made a bad call,” Happy said, unable to look at even the top of the kid’s head and focused on the growing pile of used tissues instead. “I never should’ve left you. And I…”

“You didn’t leave me.” Peter frowned up at him.

“Yes, I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No---“

“Jesus Christ, I’m not arguing about this.” Happy paused the episode and pressed his fingers to massage out the growing headache behind his eyes because leave it to the kid to make apologizing ten times worse by arguing. “Yes, kid. I did. And I feel like the worst piece of shit because of it.”

Peter blinked up at him again, his frown deep and serious.

“Well, that’s just stupid.” The kid finally said before turning to look back at the screen.

“Kid, I’m trying to express my feelings here---”

“Why?”

“Because I feel terrible!” And Happy hadn’t meant to raise his voice but it was true and he’d been hiding out in the living room ever since Tony had stopped by that morning because he was very good at his job and the one time it _really_ counted he’d messed up and almost cost the kid his life.

Peter shoved his wrist against his nose and sat up. “But why?”

And Jesus, why did the kid have to make this so difficult?

“Because you’re my kid, ok? You’re my responsibility. I’m supposed to have your back and the other day… I made a bad call… If you had gotten hurt under my watch… I just… It’ll never happen again. Ok?” Peter’s ramblings had to be contagious because Happy had definitely not meant to say all that out loud but the kid just was not getting it and he was going to get an ulcer if he kept his guilt bottled up inside. Sure, Tony and the others didn’t blame him but it didn’t matter because when Peter was with Happy, he was Happy’s responsibility, superhero or not. He was too important for Happy to make mistakes in regards to his wellbeing.

Peter chewed on lip --- pink lips full of blood and warmth and not blue and frozen and lacking oxygen--- and watched Happy for a second, his hands curling into the long sleeves of his pajama Henley.

“Ok.” The kid nodded and it was like a weight lifted off Happy’s shoulders. Happy nodded in response and looked away when the kid got that shy and insecure expression he always had when he was trying to figure out how to vocalize his feelings. Happy settled back into the couch and resumed the episode. At some point along the way, Peter had slumped against Happy’s side and Happy couldn’t bring himself to tell the kid to get off.

 “Happy?” Peter called softly when Matthew asked Moseley which cufflinks he should wear. Happy hummed, having thought the kid had fallen asleep and expecting another question about the show.

“I’ve got your back too.” The kid whispered and then curled his legs further against his chest and fell asleep to the sounds of the end credits of the episode.


End file.
